Steele, Mr Steele
by My Barbaric YAWP
Summary: What’s in a name? Laura’s finally about to find out. Total fluff. No Bond references, just an amusing title.


Steele, Mr. Steele

Yeah, so there's really no excuse for this. Pure, fluffy goodness. Get in pajamas, break out the chocolate, and enjoy!

But first, a small explanation:

I have mixed feelings about Season 5. On the one hand it can't compare to the earlier seasons, but then again, it seemed the best that could be salvaged from the Season 4 finale. Still, I would have sacrificed a lot more for a continuation of the Laura/Steele romance, so what the hell. That being said, this takes place after the lights go off in the castle in _Steeled with a Kiss, Part 2_, and I'd apologize, except that it makes me smile too much.

Thank you for all the wonderful reviews so far. I've had a lot of encouragement and a few requests for longer attempts. I'm not sure this is what you had in mind, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

I don't own Remington Steele, but he could have me any day of the week.

* * *

Laura leaned into him, enjoying the certainty in his kiss. His kiss was always a thing of beauty—sweet or sexy, the delivery was flawless. But tonight it was more than a spectacular kiss; tonight it held tantalizing promise and that trickster of emotion, fleeting and fragile hope. This kiss was a contract, as binding as any the state could devise, and absolutely more legitimate than the matrimonial farce on the fishing boat. It was solid, stable—words she would never normally associate with him.

Stable men were accountants, lawyers, businessmen—not barely-reformed art thieves and con artists. Certainly not private detectives. But then she'd lived with an accountant and investigated too many lawyers and business men to retain much faith in the sanctity of their professions. In her experience, the stable men of the world turned out to be rats and the risk takers—the slightly bent, charming scoundrels often turned up in shinning armor. Funny, that.

Maybe the risk involved in daily life made them pine for stability elsewhere; maybe the con helped extract the recklessness from their system. He was the shadiest character she'd ever met in person, and she'd trusted him with her life for five years. And now the time had come to trust him with her heart. Suddenly, it seemed inevitable: she was going to spend the rest of her life with this man. At least it would never be boring.

Life with Mr. Steele—

She pulled away from the kiss abruptly, barely registering that the phone had stopped ringing.

His confusion showed in the pale moonlight as he tried to gather the wits he'd let slip away in pursuit of more pleasurable occupation. "Laura?"

She tried to smile reassuringly, but failed to do the emotion justice. "There's just one more thing we have to discuss."

His foggy brain registered this information as best it could. "Laura, if it hasn't come up in the past five years, I think it can wait until the morning."

"It can't wait, and it has come up before. It's just never been resolved."

"Ah." He pursed his lips, trying to concentrate; his forehead furrowed in thought. "This isn't going to be a quick discussion is it?"

"I don't think so."

"Ah." He nodded and kissed her forehead, reluctantly releasing her to step back. He leaned against the doorframe for support, head resting on his fist. "All right, I knew this was too easy. What is the final gauntlet?"

She bit her lip, reluctant to broach the one subject that had hovered over them since the first day of many names. The phone rang again.

He looked at her pointedly. "I'm not answering it."

She met his eyes. "I'm not even acknowledging the sound."

"Good to know we're on the same page. Let's turn to the last one."

She began to pace. "We've talked about this before—"

He recognized the arrival of logical analysis and tried to halt the natural progression. "Laura."

"But we've never gotten anywhere—"

"Laura—"

"Because we've never addressed the real issue."

He bit his thumbnail, dreading the destination of her thoughts. "What's the superficial issue?"

She stopped pacing and faced him calmly, resolve restored by rationale. "Your name."

His foggy mind cleared abruptly. He crossed his arms and squared his shoulders reflexively.

"Ah. We're back to that again, are we?"

"It's not your lack of name that's the issue."

His eyebrows shot up. "Well, that's new at least."

She nodded. "I know. I don't care if your birth certificate said 'baby boy.' I don't care where you came from—though I would like a few more stories. I know where you're going, and I'd like to have something outrageous to tell our kids one day. I'd like to know what you've done—not the things you've stolen, I don't care about that. I mean the memories you've made, the things that make you smile at nothing—I want to know anything you want to share, but that's not a prerequisite, that's just a hope for the future—one of many. Right now I know enough—I know I love you. The rest I'm willing to take on faith."

His stance remained defensive, but his eyes softened, and his mouth twitched. "Not all of those memories are as charming as you think they are, Laura."

"I know. I'd still like to hear them—not now, and not until you'd like to share them, but someday, I'd like to know more about the myth and the man."

He smiled. "Someday you will. But right now there's really only one piece of pertinent information."

"Which is?"

He pushed off the doorjamb to move closer to her, close enough to stare down into her eyes. "I love you, Laura. I want to tell outrageous stories to our kids, too—particularly the ones about their mother chasing down cutthroat criminals single-handedly. But to do that we need to actually have children and that process seems to have eluded us these last five years. So tell me, what is the issue with my name?"

"Remington Steele."

"Laura—"

"No, that's the issue. It's not whatever your name might have been; it's that I call you Mr. Steele."

"What?"

"I call you Mr. Steele."

"Yes? So?"

She looked away, slightly embarrassed. "Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"Apparently, yes."

Her face turned back to his, slightly flushed. "I can't sleep with a man I refer to as mister. And I can't call you Remington—I just can't. It's a horrible name for a real person, and you are a real person. You're not the product of my overactive imagination—you're a man, and if I'd known I would end up married to my own creation, I would have named you James or something. Something that doesn't sound ridiculous on its own."

He stared down at her in disbelief, lips slightly parted. "You can't be serious."

She nodded. He started to laugh—side splitting, belly deep laughter.

"Just what is so funny?" She pulled away from him, seething. It was a legitimate concern, how dare he laugh at her distress?

He caught her arm, choking down the laughter and fighting to regain his breath. "Nothing—nothing. It's just we been waiting so long. I've tried everything—thought of all the possible excuses and solutions—I even consulted an astrologer and one highly questionable gypsy fortuneteller for god's sake. And all this time the problem was a name you invented because it looked good on an office door."

Laura's fury cooled as she allowed herself to be drawn back into his embrace. "It wasn't the only problem. It's just the only one left."

He sighed and slipped his arms around her waist, bringing her closer. He kissed her nose thoughtfully, smiling gently. "All right then, how do we fix this?"

She rested her head on his shoulder, suddenly exhausted. "I don't know. Pick a name?"

The phone rang again and both spent a moment in conscious silence, letting it go unanswered.

Finally he broke the stillness. "James?"

"Just a random example."

"I don't know about James. It lends itself to nicknames—Jimmy Steele. That's just dangerous territory."

She nodded and raised her head with a sigh. "So no James. And no Walter or Daniel."

"Which rules out Donald and Peter."

"And the passport collection."

"Yes, I suppose those have worn out their charm."

"Another Humphrey Bogart character?"

He looked thoughtful. "I think I've exhausted the possibilities of Bogart."

"Cary Grant? Claude Rains?"

"Possibly, possibly…" He mulled over the options in his head.

"Is there anything you'd like to be called?"

No one had ever asked him that question. He'd never asked that question. Names were like shirts to him—he changed them with necessity, aired them out occasionally, and eventually retired them when they became threadbare with use. But now that he thought of it, there was really only one name that was more than just a useful identity. It wasn't even his.

He looked into her eyes and smiled gently. "Actually, I like Mr. Steele."

Her eyes opened wide with surprise. "You do?"

He grinned. "I get this little thrill every time you say it with that lilting voice of yours. It's the best part of the day."

She laughed, shocked and oddly pleased. "You never told me."

"Well, no. If I'd told you, you'd have stopped saying it."

Her eyes gleamed, the moonlight sparkling off their chocolate depths. "Mr. Steele," she whispered, dragging it out luxuriously, savoring the sound.

He shivered. "Music to my ears."

She grinned with amusement. "I never knew. All these years, I never noticed."

"I know." He raised one eyebrow suggestively.

She shook her head, seriousness returning. "But I can't call you Mr. Steele all the time; it's practically Victorian. People will talk."

He shrugged. "People be damned."

"We run an agency, people matter. And what do I call you when I'm cross?"

"Mr. Steele always worked before."

She smacked his arm lightly. "That was before I knew you enjoyed it."

"I knew I shouldn't have told you."

She laughed again. "Mr. Steele."

He grinned. "The one and only."

She kissed the corner of his mouth, but pulled away as another thought occurred. "I suppose I could call you darling or dear or something. One of those innocuous little endearments people use." She considered him for a moment before charging into the breach. "What d'ya say, sweetie?"

He winced. "Laura, I'll make a deal with you. I will never again refer to you as the little woman—not even in my head—if you promise not to call me sweetie."

She smiled and nodded agreement. "Choose your own, then."

"All right." His face turned thoughtful. He kissed her forehead, murmuring, "Dear when you're cross." He kissed her nose lightly. "Darling in public. And sweetheart," he whispered against her lips, "when the occasion arises." He kissed her softly, brushing his lips across hers.

"I get the feeling you've thought about this before."

"It's the list I have for you, although Laura's all I really need. I can get a lot of mileage out of Laura." He grinned, eyes sparkling.

"I've noticed, dear."

"Oh, Laura, you wound me."

She shook her head and sighed. "Which leaves Mr. Steele for clients…and home, apparently. Interesting."

"Problem solved?"

"I don't know. You're still Mr. Steele. It's going to take some getting used to."

"And in the meantime?"

She kissed him softly. "In the meantime, I love you, Mr. Steele."

He smiled and kissed her again. "Now that's a very good thing." He slid his hands further down her back, rubbing the base of her spine slowly, deepening the kiss.

The phone rang again—the loud shriek breaking the dark silence. They pulled apart reluctantly.

She stared into his eyes. "I'm tired of being so damned dedicated, sweetheart." She stalked over to the phone and ripped the cord out of the wall. The ringing stopped abruptly. She carried the offending appliance to the open window and calmly dropped it into the bushes below. She turned back to him, her hair laced with silver moonlight—her smile illuminated by the pale glow.

"We're giving up dedication for the evening, Mr. Steele."

He moved to pull her close in the moonlight, the corners of his mouth quirked up—promising a lifetime of love and lust with a definite possibility of attempted larceny. He would always be bent, but never boring. And he would always be hers.

"On the contrary, Laura, tonight I plan to be very, very dedicated."

* * *

Hope you enjoyed it! A little bit of fluff is good for the soul :) Thanks for reviewing!


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